


If Memory Serves

by allthegoodnamesaretakendammit



Series: The Spirit Is Willing [5]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Pompous Pep, a complete and utter lack of infidelity, mystery-solving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 23:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12663444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthegoodnamesaretakendammit/pseuds/allthegoodnamesaretakendammit
Summary: Danny meets a handsome stranger.





	If Memory Serves

Danny is serenaded by morning birds as he munches on his Poptart, trying not to choke on it as he jogs to his internship. It’s the last Saturday of the month, so he’s got to be there bright and early to tidy up before the boss lady arrives. It’s early enough that, when he walks through particularly deep shadows, he can’t tell if his fogging breath and the chill on his spine is his ghost sense or the cool morning working its way through him. Right after he’s swallowed the last dry corner of his breakfast, a man walks up to him and touches his arm. He’s wearing a full suit in June, but he’s admittedly very handsome. Most guys his age couldn't rock a ponytail, that’s for darn sure. He oozes money and confidence when he says, “There you are. On your way to work, I presume?”

 

Danny puts his hands up and says, “Woah, dude. I think you’ve got the wrong guy.” He risks a glance at his watch and--“Crap, I’m late!”

 

He bounds across the sidewalk and throws over his shoulder, “Have a good one!” before hustling down to the station. It’s nothing glamorous, but as far as workplaces go, it suits him: a two-room radio studio with its walls covered in an ever-changing library of CDs and vinyls and tapes. He runs system checks on all of the equipment, dusts everything down, organizes the computer files, and occasionally answers the phone, telling people that yes, Mark still works here, he has laryngitis but he should be back on the air soon. When his shift is over at 2:00PM, he and Tucker and Sam meet up at the Nasty Burger for a late, greasy lunch. Out of the goodness of their hearts and the need for a little excitement, they tag along as he scours downtown for Desiree. None of them have actually spotted her, but they all agree that the kooky stuff happening in the area is definitely her MO: a surplus of lottery winners and unicorn riots in a three-block radius around the park. By 8PM, they give up and go out for ice cream by the bay.

 

Two days later, somebody named Vlad texts him and asks him out to dinner at the new Greek place on the other side of town. Danny is about to let the stranger down easy--or maybe just scroll up to read some of their previous texts--but that’s when his Dad’s new spector collector erupts, splattering ectoplasm all over the kitchen, and they all spend the next hour scrubbing it off the walls.

 

And two days after that, Danny gets a phone call at 11:20PM, when he’s just crawled into bed. He answers it without looking, yawning around the word, “Hello?”

 

Words pour into his ear, ominous and low, just as deep as a man’s voice can get: “Playing hard to get, are we?”

 

It’s a pretty sexy voice, but that is definitely not the kind of thing Danny is interested in hearing from a stranger in the middle of the night. So he just says, “Nope,” hangs up, and goes to sleep.

 

And two days after _that_ Danny is still dusty from reshelving vinyls when he spots lil Cujo nosing through the garbage behind the deli around 3:00PM. He’s got to be back at the studio by 4:00PM, so he makes the most of it with belly-rubs and ear-scritches and a never-ending game of fetch. As he chucks the bone deep into the alley for the fiftieth time in a row and watches Cujo chase after it, cool mist snakes out of his mouth, and the thrill of his ghost-sense makes him whip his head around.

 

That handsome weirdo from last week is standing at the mouth of the alley, looking very serious. “Daniel,” he says gravely, and Danny starts, never having expected him to know his name. “I believe we need to clear the air.”

 

Cujo scampers back up to Danny with the bone in his mouth, but his hackles are raised at the sight of the newcomer. At a loss, Danny tells him, “It’s an alley filled with garbage. I think the air in here is always going to be like this.”

 

But the ponytail guy just frowns deeper, taking a step closer that makes Cujo growl as he says, “Tell me honestly. Are you having second thoughts?”

 

“Uhh?” Danny offers, his confusion swiftly edging into straight-up frustration.

 

"I understand if you've… had a change of heart. But you could at least do me the courtesy of telling me--"

 

"Dude!" Danny yells, throwing his hands up in the air. "Changed my mind about _what?"_

 

“Daniel,” the man begins, his voice lowering in reproval, and that’s when it clicks.

 

“Wait. Were you the one that called me a couple days ago? Like, in the dead of night? And said all of that random stuff about playing hard to get?” At this, the man loses his disappointed, angry edge and starts looking almost scientifically curious instead.

 

“Yes,” he answers slowly. “I texted you as well.”

 

“About the Greek place!” Danny says, snapping his fingers as the strangeness of the last week suddenly falls into place. “You must be Vlad.”

 

The-Man-Called-Vlad narrows his eyes at him and asks him abruptly: “What’s your grade average?”

 

“Uhh, a C-plus?”

 

“What’s the difference between preferred stock and common stock?”

 

“No idea.”

 

“And your favorite coin?” he asks, his sharp voice still sharp

 

“The nickel, duh.” At that, something in Vlad seems to ease. He rummages in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a gadget with two glowing green prongs. Then he rushes Danny, so spry for his age that it catches Danny completely off-guard. Vlad grabs him by the shoulder and sticks him in the gut with a shock of green light. The electric current that shoots through him leaves him feeling dizzy and weak and uncomfortably human. He reaches for the help his ghost-half, but it’s not there. So all he can do is stand there in shock as black rings sweep over Vlad and he transforms into… basically Dracula.

 

Cujo--as Tucker would put it--goes beast mode.

 

And then Danny gets kidnapped. Apparently this Vlad guy doesn’t have the patience to deal with Cujo, because he hauls Danny into his arms and launches them both into the air, Cujo’s teeth snapping just inches from Vlad’s cape. But he teleports them both away before Cujo can even make a second attempt, whisking them off in a swirl of spectral pink mist. When it clears, they’re hovering above the park, where Vlad proceeds to fly over the cobblestone paths and scan the ground, eyes narrowed like a hawk’s again.

 

Danny jerks this way and that, his joy at finding another half-ghost mixing with his frustration at being manhandled. He opens his mouth to bitch about it, to maybe annoy the guy into dropping him, but Vlad just tells him sternly, “Hush. I dialed it back, so the effects should only last for an hour. For now, we must focus on finding Desiree. If we argue, she’ll hear us coming from a mile away.”

 

So Danny whispers, “You’re looking for her, too?”

 

Vlad nods and says, “It will all make sense momentarily, Daniel,” in a tone that brooks no argument. He weaves swiftly between the trees, clinging to the shadows like something out of a fairytale. Soon, they can hear the faint sounds of splashing of water, the flapping of little wings. From between the trees, they can see Desiree floating in the sunlight, feeding crumbs to the ducks as they waddle out of the pond. Who knew she could be so... nice?

 

Looks like sneaking up on her will be their best bet, and then she’ll have to grant any wish they want. Vlad must have the same idea because he turns to Danny with a finger to his lips, to which he nods in agreement. They drift closer, silently, not stirring a leaf. And then, all at once, Vlad teleports them to stand right behind her, roaring at the top of his lungs, “I wish Daniel’s memory was restored!”

 

The ducks scatter, quacking their complaint as they flee back to the water. Desiree turns to them with a self-satisfied look, waving her hand through the dissipating pink fog as she recites, _“So you have wished it--”_

 

Cujo, still the size of a car, sprints into the clearing with Sam and Tucker on his back. He’s frothing at the mouth as the two of them slip off his back, calling, “Danny, what’s going on?” and, “I knew Desiree was here!”

 

_“--so shall it be!”_

 

*

 

 _It’s the last Friday of the month and Danny’s got the day off, so he spends it in the park, lying on the grass by the duck pond. Sunlight filters in between the trees and Danny listens to the water slosh at the shore as he tries to answer Jazz’s nosey, yet well-meaning email. She knows something’s up. She_ always  _knows when something’s up. He tries to answer her the way he would have six months ago:_ everything’s good here. still single and not ready to mingle, please stop asking... _And between every word, Vlad’s mouth and his gorgeous handwriting pops into his head, with a backbeat of,_ tell her, tell her, you should tell her. _After spending fifteen minutes on a measly one-paragraph email, he throws his phone down, groaning, “God, I just wish I could forget about Vlad—“_

—For five minutes, _he doesn’t get to say. Because Desiree’s green fumes gather rapidly and she winks into existence in front of him just as his ghost sense gives him a belated, almost apologetic warning. Between one breath and the next, she shouts, triumphant,_ “So shall it be!”

 

*

 

Danny blinks the phantom images out of his eyes, shaking his head as his mind clears again, making room for the present. The handsome stranger standing next to him leans over to look him in the eye, to ask him mournfully, “Daniel, did you truly wish to forget me?”

 

Desiree tosses her hair, her bangles jangling until she stops laughing long enough to speak. “He couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she cackles, with that vicious look in her eye of someone telling the absolute truth.

 

Sam and Tucker have twin looks of horror on their faces and all Danny can say is, “Oh my God.” Sadly, his embarrassment seems to confirm everyone’s suspicion that Desiree means _exactly_ what she’s implied.

 

Almost as an afterthought, Tucker unscrews the thermos and Desiree is vacuumed into it, shrieking indignantly even as Tucker twists the lid back on. And Danny just—physically needs to lie down. He covers his face with his hands and flops down flat on his back. In almost the exact same spot as this time last week, as it happens.

 

He can hear the zing of Vlad transforming just before he begins, “Daniel—”

 

“Well,” Danny cuts him off, mortified in a soul-deep way. “Goodbye forever, I guess.”

 

He can almost hear the smile creeping into Vlad’s voice when he asks, “Are you planning to go somewhere?”

 

Maybe it’s the badger in him, but he says into his hands, “Yep. I’m gonna dig a really deep hole and lie down in it.”

 

“Not on municipal property, I’m afraid. Not unless you have a proper permit.”

 

“No, no, it’ll be fine,” Danny says faintly. “I know the mayor.”

 

“Hmm, that’s no good. I have it on good authority that the mayor is quite uptight.”

 

With absolutely nothing left to say, Danny groans, _“Froot Loop...”_

 

There is a smirk in Vlad’s voice when he answers, “Ah, yes. I’m given to understand that they’re your favorite.”

 

Danny’s hands slap down on the grass so that he can prop himself to shout at Vlad, “I was under the influence when I said that!” Then he makes the mistake of glancing over Vlad’s shoulder, where Tucker and Sam are observing this exchange with that same gobsmacked look from three minutes ago. Nope, nope, nope, he is not ready for this conversation. Danny gives a hoarse, voiceless yell of despair and lies back down.

 

A beat of silence passes, and then he can hear Vlad sitting down next to him, probably doing his utmost not to get grass stains on his suit. “Would it help,” Vlad says, “if I told you everything is going to be alright?”

 

Danny groans again, turning over onto his stomach so that he doesn’t have to see what a beautiful sunny day it is. He wants to wallow, dammit--not bask in the beauty of summer love.

 

“Really, Daniel. I think we’re going to be fine.” A hesitant hand is placed over the center of his back. “I must admit, it was… flattering, to hear Desiree say such a thing.”

 

A fresh tide of frustration has Danny muttering into the ground, “Dude, don’t even pretend. You already knew I was crazy about you.”

 

“I might have,” Vlad says, sly as anything. His hand leaves Danny’s back as he states, “Still, it’s another thing entirely to hear it.”

 

At that, Danny turns his head to the side to look at Vlad’s smug face, the sweat beginning to gather around his collar in the late afternoon heat. “Why don’t I get to hear it, then?”

 

Vlad clucks his tongue murmuring, “Daniel, surely you’re smarter than that.”

 

A smile works its way onto Danny’s face completely against his will, and he admits, “I’m really not.”

 

“Do I need to put it into writing?”

 

“Couldn’t hurt.”

 

“Um,” Tucker says, and they both turn to look at him. But it’s not the beginning of a sentence. It’s a complete thought. _Um._

 

Danny feels tired just looking at his dumbstruck expression, but he still says, “Hey, Tuck.”

 

Sam puts her index finger in the air and opens her mouth to announce something. Nothing comes out.

 

“Um,” Tucker says again, with real feeling this time. Danny can just sense that Vlad’s about to laugh so he elbows him, because if anything is going to set his friends off, it’s going to be the sound of malevolent laughter.

 

Then Danny’s phone chimes, and when he checks, it’s two new emails from Jazz. The first has the subject line, _Danny, you know you can tell me anything, right?,_ and the second, _DANNY FENTON, I KNOW WHEN YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME SOMETHING._ When he glances at the time, it’s somehow already 3:45PM. “Darn, my shift is in fifteen minutes.”

 

“I’ll accompany you.” When Danny gives him an incredulous look, Vlad tells him, “Who knows what magical beings will waylay you between here and there?”

 

Danny shakes his head at him, fails to hide his smile, and pries himself up off the ground. He gives Tucker and Sam a meaningful look and says, “I promise I’ll explain all of this, guys.” Sam opens her mouth again and still nothing comes out. Danny nods his head because, honestly, that seems to communicate her feelings exactly. And then Danny and Vlad stride out of the park while Cujo chases the ducks along the edge of the pond. Danny can feel their blank stares on his back as he rounds the corner, and he can’t help but feel bad for springing this on them.

 

Time. What they need is time. Speaking of which--“Don’t you have, like, mayor stuff to do?”

 

“There is nothing I am doing, at any time, that has a higher priority than this.” And Danny pretty much shuts up all the way to the station after that. When they get there, though, the window is dark and a sign is taped up on the door: _System crashed. Station’s closed for the night. Danny, clean up and go on home. Problem should be fixed by Monday._ When Danny fits his key into the lock and pushes inside, Vlad follows him in. The door clicks shut behind them and the dark studio feels even smaller and more intimate in the dark. He clicks on a few of the low lights while Vlad takes the biggest, spinniest chair in the room, making the leather desk chair look like a throne.

 

Danny lets his mind empty itself as he wipes down the tables and windows, vacuums, and takes out the trash in record time. After that, all that’s left is setting the music library to rights. He’s in luck, though, because there’s only fifteen tapes for him to slot back into place today. He can feel Vlad watching him as he flits all around the room, trying to put Nick Drake’s _Bryter Layter_ back where it belongs. Just as he wedges it between _Five Leaves Left_ and _Pink Moon,_ his ghostliness returns to him in a rush--the spectral energy making his fingertips buzz with potential, making him feel exhilarated by his own power even in human form. It leaves him hovering a couple inches off the ground, feeling whole and hale again.

 

Vlad is staring up at him, and his calm, pleased expression the precise opposite of how upset he’d looked when Danny had refused to give him the time of day. Which must have been six different kinds of confusing because they have never, not ever, been able to ignore each other since the first time they met. Danny drifts closer to him, laying on his stomach in the air as he darts in to give Vlad a soft peck, for his own reassurance as much as Vlad’s. Which of course devolves into about a dozen different kisses while Danny stays airborne, both buoyed up by how wonderful it feels and also feeling dragged back down to earth by sensations that are, inherently, warm and human and grounding.

 

At length, Vlad rises from his chair, keeping Danny in place with a hand against his back and another in his hair, crowding Danny’s up against the bookcase of vinyls. Danny’s still floating a little, but that just makes it better because it heightens the impression of weightlessness, the feeling that the only thing in the world is Vlad and the furniture he’s pressing Danny up against. It’s staggering, honestly: the return to infinite kissing with tongues and teeth and body heat and everything else.

 

When you get right down to it, Vlad is a pretty overwhelming guy. It was true even when Danny had no idea who he was. Once he gets the chance, Danny breathes against his cheek, “I haven’t--I haven’t changed my mind.”

 

Vlad hums and tells him, “I intuited that, yes.” He lays his cheek on top of Danny’s head, arms banding around his waist like titanium--like the most solid, unshakeable thing Danny can think of. “So,” he says, nuzzling into Danny’s hair, “Greek?”

 

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

 

Really, it’s been way too long since Vlad last kidnapped him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feeding bread to ducks is bad. Desiree is all about unhealthy wish-fulfillment, ya’ll.
> 
> Send roses to my betas, Freakydeakymoonmagic and RosemarySensei. And thanks a million to Goten_Son_Ten for giving me the inspiration for this! It never would have happened with you, boo!


End file.
